Flight
by Atomicflea
Summary: A little drabble from Eric's POV at the end of S6E9, Life Matters. Nothing is mine. No beta-reader, so forgive any mistakes.


I knew the instant she sensed me.

My human children were a distant memory, faded like the stains on the concrete of the courtyard we stood in. I hadn't thought of them in a millennia, and certainly not since I had created her to keep me company, to make me laugh. To keep me honest. She had managed what few humans could-she surprised me. That alone was worth giving up my solitary existence and the fortune it took to keep her in designer clothes and shoes. As Godric chose me, I chose her. Later I would see the same spark in Nora, in Willa. I was always drawn to women who did the unexpected. Women who scratched their own way through the world. Even if our romance had been brief and abandoned by mutual accord, she was still the Omega to my Alpha. Even when I was angry with her for going against me, it was no more than her nature. She was no less ferocious in her regard than she was in her hatred, and she held me in the highest regard.

I knew she loved me best in all the world. She had proven this too many times to count. To me, she was the single most efficient decision of my existence. My crowning glory, the sword in my right hand, her height and bearing uncommon for women of her time and profession. I remembered our first meeting, her wry sense of humour so like my own and later, her determination, her willingness to do what she needed to survive, even beyond human life. When she cut her wrists, ending her life, she meant to force my hand and I would never admit it to her, but she did. I shuddered to think of her bleeding out, buried in a pauper's grave, mouldering into the earth and becoming dust. She was never made to bend with age. She was made to be strong, eternal. I was proud of her, proud of her ferocity, her loyalty, her ability to see what needed to be done and her unwavering pragmatism. Her practicality enveloped every aspect of her life with exception of her shoes, her clothes, and me. I was the only creature to whom she showed tenderness. All the care she may have lavished upon a loved one, a husband, a brother. I had, in turn, spoiled her with all the indulgence I was capable of. In my life, she was a fixed point, an unchangeable fact. She was the family I had chosen. I thought back to my last words to Godric, as he forced me away to meet the sun we both now stood in. Godric made me vampire. Pam made me a Maker.

_Syster...moder...dotter._

The previously unknown sight of her in sunlight pulled at my chest with an emotion I recognized as longing. Not even in her human life had I seen her thus. Hers was a beauty made for day. It shimmered off her like light on the ocean, lending her hair and skin a warmth that made her look heartbreakingly young. A great rush of love overcame me, and I was saddened by what I was about to do. I did not want to leave her, but if I could not gain control over my emotions, I was of no use to her, to Willa, or to myself. I needed to go lick my wounds in private, in the one place I had always felt at home. Whether from exhaustion or sheer laziness, I loosened the stranglehold on our bond and let myself feel the what I could not let myself say.

_I love you. I can't. So tired. Sookie. Nora. I can't. Forgive me._

I felt the immediate echo in her emotions, attuned to me as always. Her fear snaked through the bond like a whiplash, her eyes zeroing in on me with preternatural precision-overly bright, clear and rimmed in red. I tried to smile, but I don't think it came out right.

"Don't you _dare_ leave me."

I wanted to let her know all the things that Godric had told me, that I couldn't leave her any more than I could leave myself, that she was the very best of all I was, my hope for all things, but the thoughts crowding my brain, the howling, tearing emotion that I didn't want to feel reflected in her whisper and the low, keening tone of her voice were all too much. She was a Maker now, and she had to learn to trust someone else. Someone else would love her. She had to allow it. I needed to be alone now. I had nothing that would justify it to her satisfaction. I barely understood myself, barely let myself feel victory in my vengeance. My enemies were all dead, my friends safe, my children alive, and I was still broken, still lost. How to describe to her the numbing weariness of it all? Despite his repeated betrayals and my constant sacrifices on her behalf, Sookie would not be mine. Killing Russell had not brought back my family, and the destruction of the camp would not even begin to compensate for Nora. Pamela was the only one I had left, and if I were to stay, I would tear her to pieces in my anger and loss. I was old enough to know better, and it was time I acted like it.

I tried to send her comfort. I thought of her grin when she was pleased with me. I remembered her fear of Bill when she was still human, her assurance in her superiority over him even now, her trust in me, and our time spent together- well over twice what most humans would ever have the privilege of experiencing. I tilted my head to look one more time at her doll's eyes and sad, bloodstained pout, locked them in my memory, and shot into the sky.


End file.
